


have a cigar(ette)

by The Key To Imagine (whiskeywit)



Category: The Beatles
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 11:32:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10436733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeywit/pseuds/The%20Key%20To%20Imagine
Summary: Title: Have a Cigar(ette)Rating: PG-13 (some kissing)Word Count:  1.253A/N: It’s been quite some time since I last posted, I know. I haven’t really been around much, but I couldn’t help but write this fic once it crossed my mind. God, I’m awful, not? ;) Pardon me for errors in the spelling and grammar; it’s mostly been written early in the morning and late at night. Plus, of course, let’s not neglect the fact I haven’t written for about two months, I guess. And last, but of course not least; I hope you enjoy JSummary: AU-ish, Paul’s never smoked and John’s going to teach him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Backup of old fic originally posted to the Beatles community JohnheartPaul, currently residing on key_to_imagine, currently in locked status. Summary contains the header as is on the LJ post.
> 
> Originally posted pre 28 DECEMBER 2008.

‘’Alright,’’ John said as he handed Paul one of his ciggies. They were standing in a narrow alleyway, hidden from the sight of anyone who wanted to poke their noses in their business.

‘’We’ll start with the first things first,’’ John said as he shook another ciggie out of the package, sticking it in his own mouth. Paul giggled when he pulled an odd face; thrilled because he was about to go yet another thing his father would never approve of – even though the old man had been smoking most of his life himself.

‘’How do I hold it?’’ Paul said, still giggling and fumbling around with his fag. John took his hand in his own, skin-on-skin contact that made Paul – if possible – feel even giddier than he already was. 

‘’Between these two fingers, you see? Alright, next step is lighting it.’’ John held a match close to the end of his cigarette, sucking in the smoke as he lighted it. Paul stared at him, not even paying half as much attention to how John was lighting the ciggie, as how he looked like, his eyes focused on the flame that came from the match, his cheeks slightly pink and his posture self-assured and tough, hair combed back into a DA to complete the entire picture. He was so caught up in studying John, that he didn’t notice the older boy was saying something to him.

‘’Paul! Are you in there, mate?’’ Paul looked up at John once he felt a nudge at his shoulder and a tap at his head. 

‘’Sorry, ‘s just that I’m a bit nervous, I guess,’’ the last words being nothing more than a barely audible mumble. In the mean time, John had thrown away the match with whom he lighted his own fag, and shook impatiently with the small cardboard box. 

‘’Put it in your mouth then! Go on, it’s not like it’s gonna eat you or something,’’ John retorted. 

‘’Alright, alright, I’m sorry!’’ Paul blushed. He put the end of the cigarette between his lips, like he’d seen John do before, and watched as John lighted the matchstick right in front of his nose.

When John was holding the flame in front of it, he said: ‘’you have to inhale, otherwise it won’t catch fire, or at least not as easily I guess.’’ Then he held the flame against the end of the fag, and Paul breathed in – just shallow because he didn’t want to end up coughing immediately; he’d heard often enough about that.

‘’See, it’s not that bad!’’ John smiled. ‘’Now you just have to inhale, like this,’’ and he took a deep drag, holding his breath for a moment before releasing the smoke again. ‘’Hmm. Now you.’’

Paul cautiously put the cigarette to his lips again, taking a small puff and feeling the smoke prickling in the back of his throat almost immediately. He could barely suppress a cough, and felt his eyes water. ‘’Ug, is it normal to feel sting in the back of your throat?’’ he asked. 

‘’Uh, yeah, it kind of is. I don’t even feel that anymore,’’ John shrugged as he smoked on. ‘’Now, go on! Otherwise it’ll burn up without you enjoying it at all!’’

Paul almost wanted to reply with ‘I don’t think I’ll enjoy it at all’ but he thought it was safer not to say anything; John had paid for the ciggie after all. Instead of that he decided to say ‘’Uh, alright.’’ This time he took a deeper breath, and this time he wasn’t able to suppress some coughing. John giggled at it, but didn’t say anything.

After that they stood in silence for a while, John gazing at Paul, opening his mouth a couple of times as if he was about to speak - but apparently not wanting to say anything. Eventually, when there wasn’t much left of their cigarettes anymore, he started to talk.

‘’You know, it might be possible that you get a bit dizzy. Sorry I forgot to say so but it’s because you’re not used to the smoke. Can affect your brain, though I think it doesn’t do any harm, eh.’’ As if John’s word affected him, Paul felt giddy once again, this time barely able to stand straight, and having to step forward. 

‘’That’s what you meant, I take?’’ Paul giggled as John grabbed his arms, his cigarette glowing on the ground a couple of meters down the alley. Encouraged by the sight of this and relieved because he wouldn’t have to smoke any more today, Paul let his own cigarette butt fall to the ground as well.

‘’Yeah, that’s what I meant...’’ John’s voice trailed off as he and Paul made eye-contact. 

Paul knew they were moving closer towards each other, the air between their faces getting thinner and yet loaded with emotions it seemed. He knew that he would do the right thing turning away from it, but he didn’t want to. John’s breath was ghosting over his skin, the smell in his nose consisted mainly of tobacco and a bit of John, a bit of something he thought that could be alcohol but then it would’ve been consumed hours ago – long before John went over to Paul’s house. 

When their lips touched, electricity sparked, and Paul pulled away immediately. This was something he wasn’t supposed to do, something illicit and so much worse than smoking. Smoking was innocent – so many people did that. This was of an entirely different sort of wrongness – something you really shouldn’t let yourself in with. 

Yet. He felt his cheeks redden, John staring at him, his gaze suddenly gone soft and warm, soothing, instead of the hard stare of before. His barriers fell down and Paul knew he was seeing the real John, the John he had been if his mother hadn’t left him when he was five, the John he would’ve been if his father had been kind and the one he would’ve been if he hadn’t been raised by Mimi, if he’d been allowed to play his music at home – and more so; to have it appreciated. To be truly and undoubtedly loved. 

Paul also knew that he liked this John – after the few times he’d seen him like this before he would’ve given everything to evoke this look in his eyes more often, this feeling between them. 

And before he was even able to finish his thoughts, he felt John’s hand at the back of his head, pulling him closer again, their lips pressed against each other more firmly this time. His heart was racing in his chest, but he didn’t know whether it was because of the excitement or out of fear for what was happening – what could be about to happen. Nevertheless he parted his lips when he felt John’s tongue slide against them, seeking entrance but not persuading him to give it. 

To give himself, it flashed through Paul’s head. This was John Lennon kissing him, him and John Lennon kissing each other – he was all too willing to take part by now, his legs weak and his head high, his head stolen by someone but having a matching one – John’s – in return. But, most important; he didn’t even care. He didn’t care that his heart belonged to another boy, didn’t care that they would never be able to marry, as long as they’d be able to stay together, all the way to the tops of the charts. Not married, but melted together nonetheless.


End file.
